


By your side

by derailleur



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-21 13:56:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15559194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derailleur/pseuds/derailleur
Summary: Scenes inspired by the work "Your Name" of mochiflowers, told from Yuzuru's viewpoint.





	1. A plan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mochiflowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mochiflowers/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Your Name](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14149146) by [mochiflowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mochiflowers/pseuds/mochiflowers). 



> Hi @mochiflowers,  
> I was inspired by your story so much that I thought it would be cool to add some Yuzu first person narrative. I'm very rusty, so I would love to hear your feedback, and honestly, my dream is to see it incorporated into your work (as a series perhaps). Hope you enjoy. Thanks for helping me discovering the joy (and frustration) of writing again.  
> Derailleur

It's been going so well. Too well. I knew it.  
  
The past few weeks have been perfect. Daily sessions with Zhenya, just the two of us on the ice, completely focused on work. My mind no longer went blank when I see her in the corridor. My eyes no longer steal glances at her in class. Brian was right, her presence motivates me, just like Javi's. The Zhenya in my mind, the Zhenya I train along every night, is a determined World Champion, who tags on a triple toeloop to every jumping pass after she has achieved perfection with it. Her progress gives me solid yardsticks to measure myself, clear goals to aim for. Each week is a mini-battle to see who can improve faster, who can hit their target better and more consistently.  
  
But this isn't working. A sharp gust of air filled my lungs as my eyelids slammed shut. For a split second I superimposed the spread eagle exit onto my quad attempt. Somewhere in the building, a tap turned on. The sound of water rushing through pipes instantly transported me back into that crammed closet. A mixture of fear and excitement took over me. I jolted back into reality.  
  
Took another breath. Replay. I landed the quad with a spread eagle in my mind. My heart was drumming so fast. That closet again. My breathe shallows as if to make up for my constricted chest. Between the overwhelming chlorine was the faint scent of her sweat. It smelled so good and distinct, vaguely like a bergamot flower pressed in a dusty library classic. It had that musty yet calming scent, tangy and bitter to the taste. From the sliver of light I could make out her cheek hollow. My eyes traced the outline of her jaw, her pointed chin, her neck. Just then a door unlatched, and her lips slightly parted in surprise. My cheeks and ears were radiating. A dizzying sensation took over as the pang in my lower abdomen sent blood rushing elsewhere. I became keenly aware of my lower body, praying that the dance belt I put on that morning would hold up. My fingers tightened ever so slightly around her hip. Instinct was madly screaming to bring my own lips to meet hers, while my body froze in fear. Crazy scenarios ran through my head. No I cannot. Not now, not here. NO. I count backwards to shift my focus. 1000. 993. 986. 979. 972....  
  
My eyes opened. The laptop was still playing that quad axel on an infinite loop. Frustrated, I took off the earphones and threw myself onto the bed, forehead soaked in sweat. I was disgusted for being so distracted. For allowing myself to be distracted. For even considering that kiss.  
  
I opened my training journal. Image Training: >. It has to be done another time. To make up for my work quota of the day, I opened the video lectures. Neuroscience was the only course I have left this quarter. I should be on track to finish it two weeks before Grand-prix Finland. In five minutes my notebook was full of scientific terms. Peripheral nervous system. Limbic. Neocortex. Autonomic, sympathetic, parasympathetic, adrenal medulla. I needed to slow down to get the spelling right. Let's think of some examples to relate. My senses were most worked up during the Olympics. I remembered that sensation before taking onto the ice. My legs were like jelly yet the cheers were deafening. An explosive cocktail of fear and excitement took over me.  
  
... Just like this afternoon.  
  
I remembered the Olympics. Both times I wanted that gold. Badly. In Sochi I didn't have a plan. I was in denial of my instinct, and somehow or rather I got through. The second time I had a plan and it could not have gone more wrong.  
  
... I had no plan in that closet. Still no plan now. I will sure end up a loser.

  
Wait, am I giving up without a fight?  
  
The mantra has been that I am content with our training sessions. That it could go on like this forever, until Beijing, until one of us retire. Until she tells me otherwise. That maybe, actually, there is nothing more than mutual respect and friendship between us. Yes, that is what my neocortex wants. But deep down, my brain stem desires more. So much more.  
  
The parallel hit me. That's it, I cannot blindly deny the place that Zhenya occupies in my heart. Nor can I recklessly give in to that desire. I just need a plan and give it my all.  
\----------------  
  
"Gochisousama". I stole a glance at my mum, who was busy removing lint from my training gear. Since last year she no longer cooks for me. My diet has been carefully managed by a team of nutritionists. Her workload has barely lightened, however. Media correspondence alone is a full-time job, not to mention the daily household chores. I cleared my throat.  
"Would you like some tea?"  
She nodded and turned the shirt over. "No caffeine please." She continued working through the pile of clothes.  
Tea after meal is our family ritual, the secret code for "I want to talk to you". I mentally rehearsed my first sentence while measuring out the tea leaves. This is it. This is the first step and I cannot falter.  
  
My mum has paused and joined me at the kotatsu. I recalled the joy in finding an apartment with a kotatsu when we first came to Toronto. Except for the towering view outside, this feels just like home, our real home. I sat up, seiza style.  
"Thank you very much for all your support." I bowed down. "I don't say this enough."  
My mum was taken aback, then quickly recovered.  
"What is it Yuzu?"  
"Nothing, I just wanted to say it." I smiled and took a sip of tea. Her chest lightened, her eyebrow lifted, and her bemused eyes beckoned another sentence.  
"You know, maybe Dad and Nee-chan would like to celebrate Mother's day with you too. Belated Mother's day." I probed. She nodded slowly.  
"Besides, I think I should learn to take care of myself this pre-season."    
I glanced up and met her eyes.  
"And you can do laundry?"  
"Of course!"  
"Your one-shirt laundry commercial worries me." She chuckled.  
"I have washed costumes by hand before in hotel rooms even. You know it." I rolled my eyes. "I can drive, I have a rigid schedule. Plus, Kikuchi-san and the ANA team is in town. I won't break down in a mess."  
  
Her eyes scanned across my face for what seemed like a century. My mind flash back to this familiar moment, it's like watching spies taking polygraph tests in action movies. This time I should be fine. Everything I said was true, it's just not everything.  
  
"Is there a girl you fancy?"  
My stomach lurched. "Just one?" I joked. "No, I really just want you to relax in Japan for a while. Besides, when you are there, it is easier to handle the media requests."  
  
Seeing that my mum is not entirely convinced, I added the final line with a smile.  
"But please come back for the intensive training."  
  
Her gaze finally softened. "Sou desu ne." Her lips curled into a smile, and she took her sip of tea.  
  
\----------------  
I nervously checked the standby list of her flight. It's cleared. Great, she will be in Japan for 8 days. I have exactly one weekend.  
  
Saturday night seems best. I will have dinner with her here. My eyes quickly scanned the living room. We have a guest cushion for the kotatsu, she should feel comfortable.  Besides, she has been to Japan before. I heaved the kotatsu to the window side, carefully positioned it so there is room to lean back. It was missing something, maybe a flower vase. I tested the new speakers quality. I continued the simulation in my mind. I will park the car in the basement for her to take the lift up while I take the stairs. I put the spare keycard into my training bag. Charged my phone. Ordered flowers. Pooh can come as well - I thought as I shoved him in - he can be my wingman. All set.  
  
I turned to my room. How on Earth might she end up in here, I don't know. Maybe it's an apartment tour. Do people actually tour bedrooms? I wanted to slap myself. But what if..., well, I can't leave it to chance.  
  
I went to the local convenience store. I usually shop at the branch near TCC, so no one *should* know me here. I put on a basecall cap and coughing masks as a precautionary measure. The burly clerk yawn, nose glued to his phone. It took a while for me to locate the aisle. There were so many choices, gosh, I regretted not looking this up online. Some boxes were huge, surely they don't need such conspicuous packaging. Then I remembered Javi's joke about vending machines in bars. That's too risky. Finally I paid for the smallest pack possible, a pack of three. Declining the plastic bag, I opened it right there and put one in my wallet. The clerk didn't look up from his phone.  
"Good night." I smiled and walked out. Come what may, I am ready.  
  
I almost skipped along the TCC corridor that morning before bumping into Gaby.  
"Yuzu, can we change your mind about the Saturday party?"  
  
Shoot, that party. I had completely forgotten.  
  
\---------------------  
Saturday afternoon.  
  
I came to TCC and practiced basic strokes for hours. I could not stop kicking myself. Pooh-san sat dejected on a bench.  
_It's okay, you did not have the chance to ask her earlier_. His forgiving smiles seemed to say.  
  
Yesterday, my only chance to ask her, was burned up. She left early. Judging by her attitude with others, clearly I did something wrong. I squinted, racking my brain for clues.  
  
"Maybe someday you'll understand."  
  
Her words echoed in my ears. I rummaged through the possibilities. It's my fault isn't it, for being secretive. For building walls to shield her out. But I just could not fathomed the timing of her wrath. Why now?  
  
My face buried itself in my hands. People have told me that I resemble the main character of a manga, fierce but delicate. That my life follows some windy twists and turns of a dramatic novel. Just then, Phantom music came on My body replayed the step sequence from muscle memory. Novels often have clues don't they. Maybe it's not a coincidence that I had this as my free skate. Or Romeo and Juliet.  
  
The music played on. Memories of the 2014-15 season flooded me. Worlds in Saitama. Worlds in Nice. So that's how it is. It is not a choice. Doesn't matter who I love, I need to fight for her. And fight I will.  
  
Next Saturday is out - my mum would already be back. It has to be tonight. There is always this damn party, I told myself. Knowing Gaby it's probably not a civilized gala. There may be blasting music, non-stop chatters and alcohol-fueled bodies. To socialize I would have to bring my goofy self, and right now I am too drained for that. I don't even know if she would welcome my presence.  
  
_But this is your only chance. Maybe you could bring the flowers to make up?_  
  
At last, a constructive thought. I sighed of relief and opened my phone. A text message for redelivery of the bouquet. My ears registered a bitter laugh that I barely recognized as my own voice. Fine, Faith, bring it on. Here it is, Gaby Daleman. My fingers swiped out a quick message.  
  
"Where's the party?"


	2. One last night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set around Chapter 13/14 of @mochiflowers' work. Yuzu's story picks up from where Zhenya fainted, in the aftermath of that Saturday party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2! Many thanks for your encouragement, dear readers. @mochiflowers and I have decided to embark on our loose collaboration. Our plots will be synced, though we write the chapters separately, and the metaplot is ALL HERS, so if there consistencies they are entirely my fault.  
> I hope you guys enjoy. This chapter is quite short due to my work schedule, I'll upload a part 2 when I could.

I carefully landed her on the futon, shifting pillows to elevate her feet. They were cold as ice and sweating, signs of low blood pressure. My hands fumbled for the camphor oil in the medicine kit. I did not even know if they would help, but the thought of watching on with hands tied behind my back was unbearable. My fingers moved in circular motions, mimicked movements Kikuchi-san did during our therapy sessions. Feeling that this could take a long time, I paused to dim the lights and get comfortable, while the rain hammered away at the window.  
  
Her feet were small and slender, with the same trademark calluses from skating boots as mine. There were fresh cut marks, some I gathered from high heels, others must be from earlier. Gosh, how long did she walk to get to that bus stop. And to make it worse I even dragged her to the car. Remorse gripped my heart. Zhenya, I am so sorry.  
  
_I am so sorry for hurting you. I made this plan but it was all about me, wasn't it. I didn't once considered your position. An unwelcomed confession coming from a training mate whom you cannot avoid. A stubborn guy who never gives up, whose plan is to get in your way. And now you are taken to his home, you clothes in disarray, you had no choice, and your body gave in. You are so strong, Zhenya, I envy your freedom. The freedom to speak your mind. To engage with the media directly and emerge unscathed. To be yourself. A World Champion. A flawless Olympic performance when all eyes were on you, coming back from an injury, and a bitter silver. I see my younger Sochi self in you. Your heart is set for the next big stage, to prove yourself, and here I am distracting you. I am so sorry._  
  
A melody from her handbag startled me. An incoming call from "мама". My heart skipped a beat, though I quickly regained my composure. I thought of my own mother. If it were her, she must have been tormented and frightened, worried sick. She deserves to know. I did a quick calculation. If her English is like my own mothers', then the situation must be conveyed by a very simple and succinct sentence. I mentally rehearsed a phrase. "She is sick. I will bring her home when she is better." With trembling fingers I picked up the phone. "Hello?", I cleared my throat and mustered up the calmest voice I could offer. "Hello?". No answer. The screen was blotched with condensation. Her whole bag looked like it was soaked in a bucket. Zhenya must have been outside in that storm for an eternity. My stomach dropped at the realization. Why was I driving around in circles like an idiot. How could I have missed her. Why didn't I see her earlier. A lump rose up my throat, a tingly sensation built up in my nose. My view of her blurred by tiny droplets...  
  
88/57. I sighed of relief. Her blood pressure was low but only marginally so. Her hands were warm, maybe... too warm? My fingers rested on the inside of her wrist, listening to the regular throbbing of her pulse. About two every second. Her eyes scanning rapidly underneath the fluttering eyelids. Sweat trickled down her rosy cheeks. I wrung a cool cloth dry and gently pad them down, then brought my forehead to meet hers. We had the same temperature. Just a bad dream, huh?  
  
Finally the adrenaline gave way to fatigue. I tucked her in and carefully laid down by her side. My hand gently caressed her earring, a rose gold twist with tiny ornaments. Watching, hearing, feeling her regular breath is magical, almost hypnotic. I felt nothing but gratefulness and contentment.  
  
_You gave me the chance to be with you, to take care of you, Zhenya. My plan was completely up in smoke and yet you are still here. Your presence fill my hearts with happiness more than I can ever imagine. I wish we could stay here forever, frozen in time. For me to treasure this one last night with you.  
_

I leaned in, buried my nose in her hair and whispered "I love you."


	3. A demon named love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a continuation of the previous chapter. Yuzu returned to his apartment after dropping Zhenya off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter practically wrote itself so it was up much faster. The two block quotes are lyrics of the song "My Immortal", and a stanza from Pushkin's poem "I loved you". The original poem is in Russian, the translation I used is this one  
> https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-loved-you-2/  
> Probably no more updates from me until @mochiflowers release her next chapter (I'm sure it will be great!).  
> Meanwhile, enjoy. :)

".. You know how I feel... I can't stay at the rink at night anymore... Thanks for everything."    
I tossed and turned in the bed. A dried pool of tears laid beneath me, leaving salty blobs of stain with white crystals at the edge. In that congested state I could still smell her sweet scent, feel her damp hair. In any case I was not going to wash this bed sheet. I was desperate to cling on to her trace.  
  
_I'm so tired of being here._  
_Suppressed by all my childish fear_  
_If you have to leave_  
_I wish_  
_that you could just leave_  
_'Cause your presence still lingers here_  
_and it won't_  
_leave me alone._  
  
  
I lost track of how many hours spent crying as the reality of her words hit me. That was as clear of a goodbye as it can get. I am now back to zero, back to when she arrived at the rink for the first time. Or maybe even worse.  
  
_I loved you, and I probably still do,_  
_And for a while the feeling may remain..._  
_But let my love no longer trouble you,_  
_I do not wish to cause you any pain._  
  
It can't go on like this, I thought. My eyes are so puffed up from crying that they barely opened. Various little circles slowly came into focus. They are silver. My silver medals. My entire kuyashii collection by my bedside.I slowly got up and picked out Worlds 2016. How I cried myself to sleep and woke up with nightmares for two weeks after. This pain is familiar, isn't it. I did it before. I did, for I am the Double Olympic Champion Yuzuru Hanyu. Fate has challenged me to do it again.  
  
The room flooded with light as I swung open the curtains. Whatever it is, I am not giving up. I am not giving you up, Zhenya. It's just a matter of time.  
  
\------------------------  
Kikuchi-sensei came that afternoon for our weekly therapy session. He was shocked to find me in practice gear limping.  
"Are you ok?" His voice filled with concerns.  
"I'm fine, please don't worry." I said politely between breathes. "I think I overtrained today just a bit."  
That was an understatement. I trained with the intensity of a possessed demon. A demon named love. I have to land that quad axel. I must get my part done, Zhenya. I am not tall, dark and handsome; I can't casually ask you out in a party. But I am not going to lose to those guys. My grip tightened around the Pyeongchang medal. To be freed of the responsibility, I must fulfill it. Get it done.  
  
Since the ankle injury I no longer do cool-down massages myself, so the sessions with Kikuchi-sensei are longer. Sports massage is fascinating, I love identifying all the muscles learned in anatomy on my own body, feeling them stretched and separated. It is immensely painful, but in my delirious state I found the pain soothing. He spent sometime working on my Gacilis muscle, hamstring and ITB band, then moved down to my lower legs. The gastrocnemius, the peroneus longus and peroneus brevis. The pain was excruciating. I concentrated on spelling out the names of the muscles while counting my breathes.  
"Umm... there is some inflammation here. You must have practiced hard."  
"Mmm."  
"At this rate your bone might be inflammed too."  
"It's fine. The quad axel is all I have left." I said quickly between gasps of air. "I'll give everything for it."  
  
The massage session ended, leaving me exhausted on the table. All the muscles in my lower body aches in a satisfying way. I closed my eyes, taking it all in. Just then, Kikuchi-sensei cleared his throat.  
"Do you need help doing laundry?"  
Laundry? I blinked. He just came out of the guest bathroom, looking apprehensive. From my angle I could see Zhenya's assortment of garment reflected in the mirror. She must have hung them up in the bathroom last night to dry but left in a hurry this morning.  
  
I froze. What should I say, that these are for my sister?  
  
"It's not what you think!" I stammered, well aware that my face looks like the carapace of a steamed lobster.  
"It's... very complicated." Urgh, that didn't sound right. Kikuchi-sensei looked like a concerned father, though I cannot imagine the look on *my* father's face in this situation. I forced  myself to hold a steady gaze.  
"A friend of mine missed the bus last night and she was drenched. So she got here to change and I took her home. Nothing happened."  
"..."  
"You can check, my carseats are soaked, my own clothes are soaked." I offered any evidence I could rack up in my mind, knowing fully well that none of them offer support to the most crucial claim.  
"Your bed is soaked too." Kikuchi-sensei observed.  
"I sweat a lot." Which was true, all true. I bit my lips. How did I manage to tell truth as if they were lies?  
"Your mother is not here."  
"That has nothing to do with this." I blushed even deeper. That was the first smooth sentence and it was the first lie. Calm down, said a voice of reasons.  
Kikuchi-sensei looked sternly at me.  
"Of course it does. I am your personal trainer, Yuzuru-kun. Your mother has entrusted you in my care. How can I have any dignity left if you are out and soaked to the bones midnight the first weekend that she is away?"  
I mumbled an apology.  
"Let me deal with the laundry and your car." He said swiftly.  
"All I said was the truth." I pleaded.  
Kikuchi-sensei sighed. "I trust you. It sounds like you, going out of your way when called upon. But please think of us. We depend on you."  
His words stung more than all the pain in that massage session combined. I bowed down, head low. "My deepest apologies."  



	4. Original intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This picks up at the end of Chapter 22 of Your Name.  
> Yuzuru went straight to the airport to pick up his mum after his confession at Zhenya's home.

Air Canada AC2. From: Tokyo HND. To: Toronto YYZ. Status: Landed.  
  
The flight was delayed due to bad weather, so the arrival hall was filled more than usual. Nervous chatters in various languages surrounded me. I paced the terminal, unable to stand still after all the excitement this afternoon. As the passengers trickled out, eyes met eyes, arms locked arms, my mind wandered to some distant future. _One day I would pick you up, Zhenya. My arms would wrap around you, my lips will warm yours, right here in front of hundreds pairs of eyes, like it's the most natural thing in the world. And we would blend in, anonymous, just like any other couple. One day..._  
  
There she is. I gave a quick wave and pointed to the right exit.  
"Okaeri." I ran up to her and revealed the bouquet behind my back. She was taken aback by my enthusiasm.  
"Oh, thank you. I didn't expect such a grand welcome."  
"It's nothing!" I chimed.  
"Are you out of clothes? Is that why you came in a suit?"  
"Mum! It's a special day!" I rolled my eyes. "You must be tired. Let me get the car."  
  
We queued up to pay as the automatic ticketing machine was under repair. My mum glanced at the back seat.  
"So who are those flowers for?"  
My stomach churned. That's right, I had three bouquets didn't I. Should have given that spare one to Zhenya, how stupid was that.  
I answered absentmindedly. "Oh, those are for a girl I like."  
I reached back to grab the bouquet.  
"They're not as nice as yours though."  
My mum was speechless, eyebrows fused, jaws dropped. We pulled up to the booth.  
The woman at the counter greeted us in a monotone voice.  
"Ten dollars please."  
"Here you go." I handed her the flowers with a smile, along with the ten. Seeing her just as stunned as my mum was, I burst out laughing.  
  
\----------------  
  
We cruised along the highway at a comfortable speed. Skyscrapers towered in the distance while the hustle and bustle of downtown lit up the skyline below. I hummed along to Hello, World! as the melody filled the air.  
  
She reached forward to turn the volume down and shot me an inquisitive look.  
"You see, they messed up the flower delivery so I ended up with two bouquets. Sorry."  
"Yuzu!" My mum scolded.  
"Why, are you not ready for a daughter-in-law?" I probed eagerly.  
She reflected for a moment before giving a careful answer.  
"It's not that. But you are not in Japan very often."  
  
My weight shifted awkwardly. A cloud of thought hung over me, but nothing distinctive came out. Zhenya is who she is, I don't wish for her to be any different. But for some reasons the picture of Zhenya in kimono popped into my head, drawing a smile across my lips. That maiko outfit suited her well, though they put on way too much make up. I felt smug for knowing what's underneath: a layer of soft and smooth skin, cold and delicate like tofu. My fingers dreamily doodled along the wheels, moving to their own rhythm. And who can forget Sailor Zhenya. That's as iconic as it gets for Japan, I mused. Wonder how my mum would feel if I said that I'm dating Sailor Moon?  
  
"Yuzu? Are you listening?"  
"Um? Yes?" I found her eyes through the mirror, looking slightly annoyed.  
"The 24h TV is in a couple of weeks."  
"Yes, of course I will come."  
"Good." My mum scribbled on her notebook and continued down the list. "During that week Sendai and Miyagi tourism would like to hold a photoshoot to release new brochures."  
"Yes."  
"The Japan Olympics committee wants you to be the torch bearer when it passes through Tohoku next year."  
"Yes."  
  
And so the list went on. It felt like a multiple choice test, with the choices being "yes" and "if you think it's suitable". My attention drifted again, this time to Sendai. _One day I will take you there, Zhenya, and give you a personal tour. Of course we will start with ice rink Sendai. Then we can walk back home along the road that I can navigate with my eyes closed. I'll take you to my elementary school. Visit my friends and neighbors. Watch a baseball game. We can go to the local bookstore and gawk at all the manga, just like when I was a kid. We can..._  
  
"Yuzuru!" A sharp cry commanded my attention.  
"Sorry, I was just thinking about Sendai tourism." I responded.  
"Speaking about Sendai tourism, I ran into Ai-chan at the office. She sends you her regards."  
"Oh, likewise." Ai-chan. She is such a household name throughout Japan, especially when I was growing up. Sendai people discussed about her obsessively.  
"... It's a pity that she didn't marry a Japanese man." My mum mused.  
"But isn't that great?" I chipped in. "Their daughter can grow up fluent in two languages."  
She shot me a quizzical glance.  
"Besides, she trains in China. It is only natural that she meets someone there."  
I gingerly pushed it a little further. My mum frowned.  
"It's not. She trains with the national team too. He plays at a lower level and has such an income gap." She said in an almost defensive way.  
"But her reputation is astronomical. If she wants to marry a fellow table tennis player then he has to come from China." I remarked calmly.  
"She could marry another athlete worthy of her. How can she not find a decent guy in the whole of Japan?" My mum raised her voice. "Her marriage completely halted her career. Without him, she is a serious contender for Tokyo 2020."  
"How do you know? Maybe they inspire each other. And she still has two years until Tokyo."  
"You don't understand. Once you have children life is different." She said firmly.  
"That has nothing to do with him being Taiwanese." I argued.  
My mum shook her head. Her mouth opened then closed, her hand rubbing her forehead. Our conversations often go like this when we disagree, neither are willing to back down. At long last, she uttered.  
"But it's Ai-chan."  
  
My heart sunk a little. That's right, if she was not Ai-chan, we would not be having this discussion. I could not pretend to be oblivious. I remembered when the Japan Times covered their marriage two years ago. The feeling in Japan, and especially in Sendai, was mixed. Some are supportive, but many just nodded their heads and commented behind closed doors or took to the keyboard to voice their displeasure. The mood was far from celebratory.  
"It's the first time that I heard your opinion on this matter." She noted.  
"Well, it's just my impression." I signaled to left turn, finding an excuse not to meet her eyes. Maybe I had said too much.    
  
We were almost there. My mum flipped through her notepad once more.  
"Media day is next Tuesday." She reminded me.  
"Yes." It's that soon, I thought to myself. The season has really started. The promises we made echoed in my ears. There's one more gamble I needed to make. As we walked away from the car, I found my voice again.  
"I have ramped up the training starting next week."  
"Very good."  
"So I may come home late sometimes." I continued. "I'll have dinner delivered to the club. Please don't wait for me."  
My mum went along in silence. Could it be that she suspected....? My senses felt sharper as the anxiety heightened. Cooling breeze swept across the air, bringing in scents of Lake Ontario. I nervously anticipate a question, no, an onslaught of interrogation. What kind of training. Who are you training with. Why is it so late. So on and so forth. My mind shifted through my scripted responses, while my tongue felt uneasy. We reached the apartment and still no questions. Finally, her eyes met mine.  
"Yuzu." She said. "Don't forget your original intentions."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thanks so much for reading! Here's the next chapter. I had a lot of fun writing this (though a fair bit of struggle as well. I could relate well with Yuzu but not so much his mum, haha). @mochiflowers and I are enjoying our loose collab, and I hope it will enrich the story for you.  
> Initially I was worried that people will give me a backlash on me hitch hiking on someone else's story, so I kept the comments private. Thanks to your support, I am more confident now and have got rid of the private comments. So please give feedback / share your thoughts freely below! 
> 
> Some notes (in case you're not a hardened table tennis fan like I am)  
> \- Hello, World! is a song of Bump of Chicken.  
> \- 24h TV: a charity ice show that Yuzu attends every year.  
> \- Ai-chan: Fukuhara Ai, table tennis star from Sendai, Olympic silver 2012, Olympic bronze 2016 with the Japanese team. She and Yuzu are both ambassadors for Sendai tourism. She is married to the Taiwanese table tennis star Chiang Hung Chieh in 2016 and has a kid in 2017. Ai-chan is her nickname. Both Yuzu and Ai-chan are sponsored by ANA.


	5. Slowly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Setting: after chapter 25 of Your Name.  
> After making up with Zhenya and spent a wonderful evening at the park with her, Yuzu returns home to face his mum.

"Tadaima." I cleared my nose, shaking off the cold. It was almost midnight. To my dismay my mum was still up. She was working on her laptop at the kotatsu, tea in hand.  
"Okaeri." She motioned at the cushion opposite.  
"It's very late so I will excuse myself." I muttered while briskly pacing towards my room. The day was endless and exhausting, my energy drained from the emotional roller coaster earlier. I desperately yearned for some time by myself. 

"This girl came looking for you." She swung the laptop around. Butterflies took off in my stomach. We have to chat about this after all. I took a glimpse at the screen, keeping a straight face. In the photo, Zhenya was wearing a sparkling dark dress weaved in a tinge of moss green, with beautiful embroidery camouflaging her golden necklace. Her hair brushed back high revealing her forehead. She was looking beyond the camera, her smiling lips accentuated by the icy background. My mind weirdly decided to play a game - could I guess where and when this picture was taken? I frowned, tongue in cheek. Do I need this sort of distraction right now?  
"She's Evegenia Medvedeva from TCC." I nodded.  
"How did she know our address?"

The question threw me off guard. At least four options came up in my mind. She found it out from a friend (Javi?). I gave her a lift after training one night and happened to pass by here first to drop off stuff? (What stuff?) Some version of the story I told Kikuchi-sensei could work, he could corroborate with me (it's the truth after all). But that’s opening a different can of worms. Or I could pretend to have no idea. This was the easiest option, but its credibility goes down exponentially by the second as I struggled to put a sentence together. 

"Oh. Ah, I gave her our address." I boldly replied. Sometimes the best option is to spill the beans. Some of the beans.  
"She came here with a McDonald bag."  
"Yes of course, I asked her to buy a meal for me. Did you take it?"  
"What happened to your dinner?"  
"She bumped into me in the hallway and the food spilled. She insisted to get me something else. It was late, there were not a lot of choices, so..."  
The words blurted out on their own. This wasn't the carefully sculptured sand castle of a story that I usually come up with, it was just a whimsical, paper-thin excuse. My mind was too exhausted to elaborate on the spot. Tension escaped my chest, only to be replaced by another gulp of air as I held my breath. It's a one-way street now, I have no choice but to stick to this version. My mum clearly was not buying it.  
"You could have called me to cook for you."  
"I didn't want to trouble you so late."  
She shook her head in disbelief, and continued in a grave tone.  
"How could you just freely give out your address to random people?"  
"She's not a random person, okay?" I snapped. "She is just as accomplished as I am. She knows to value privacy."

My short temper took both of us by surprise. I could feel her penetrating gaze slowly scanned me from head to toe, sending a shiver up and down my spine. I wanted to curl into the fetal position. Does my sleeve cover the bracelet well enough? (A fan gave it to me). Could she see the burger crumps on my clothes? (I had some crackers). Grass remnants at the edge of my shoes? (I took a shortcut through a park). Traces of lipstick on my face? (It must be something else). The cold sweat, the ruffled hair, the racing heart? (I trained lots). All of a sudden the room was closing in. I felt trapped and defenseless, like a fish out of water gasping for air, waiting for the final blow.  
"I'm sorry. I'm tired tonight. Oyasuminasai."  
I fumbled for the door handle of my bedroom. 

"Since when did McDonald beat my cooking?" Her voice choked full of emotions. Tears were welling up in her eyes. Wrapping her up in my own jacket, I rested my hands on her shoulders.  
"It's not that. I just want some McDonald once in a while. I'm sorry."  
The instance that apology came out, I was overwhelmed with remorse and shame. There's so much to apologize for. 

I flung open the shower door. Scalding hot water beat down my skin, followed by an ice-cold jet. That's the summary of today, hot and cold, frenzied felicity then gut-wrenching guilt. My mind was fogged up like the mirror in front of me. The day unraveled in my mind like a silent film. I could not remember exactly what I said, how many lies I’ve told. The worst part is that my mum will know, has to know. eventually. We must take this slowly. We must.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This chapter is pretty heavy, sorry for fluff lovers out there. A clash like this is a bit unavoidable though, and generally I'm a bit of a dark writer (haha). I *promise* to make up with fluffs next time.


	6. Despacito

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Setting: towards the end of Chapter 26 of Your name.   
> Yuzuru and Zhenya on a date.

"I'm going to be there first!" Zhenya called out from top of the staircase. I slowed down to a halt, my breathing laborious. How could she have so much energy?  
"Are you ok? Yuzu?" She peered down the stairwell.    
"I don't know." I said between huffs. "I didn't bring my inhaler."  
"Oh, shoot." Quickened steps stormed down the stairs. In seconds she stood by my side, her hands resting on my back. "What should we do? Is it serious?"  
"Call Brian." I instructed. She took out her phone and started typing furiously. Seeing an opening, I sprinted up the stairs, grinning from ear to ear.  
"I'll be there first!"  
Behind me, a frustrated Zhenya called out "Yuzuuuu!"  
  
We raced to the edge. The rooftop view reminded me how much of an urban jungle Toronto is. A field of brick red apartment blocks covered in grafitti and dotted by ventilator outlets extend in all directions, met by towering vertical blocks speckled with lights that characterize a generic downtown. It's not exactly my cup of tea, though Zhenya was clearly thrilled by the scenery. Enthused by her excitement, I leaned against the railing and looked skywards. A light blue canvas with crimson red nebula greeted me. Way up high, a couple of planes steadily traced out their path, leaving crumbs of cloud behind like that in fairy tale. I've seen this countless times in countless places, yet the moment still beckoned to be treasured.  
  
"Look, that's the market. That's where we were." Zhenya keenly pointed out. "You can sort of see the harbor too."  
"Mmm..."  
"TCC is... this way?"  
"Yeah, my home is this way, and yours is that way." I waved in various directions. The park where we danced, the science center. Zhenya has tripled the number of places I've been to in Toronto.  
"Wasn't that fun?" She beamed at me.  
"Only with you." I replied. Against this background it's a no-brainer, she clearly stole all the limelight.  
"I know a great game." Her face lit up as she grabbed my wrist and walked backward towards the middle. Before I knew it she stopped me with a finger on my chest while taking a further step back. For a second she had her game face on, dead serious and concentrated. To my surprise she jumped a double salchow.  Landing with her eyes closed, she paused for a moment and reached out with her left hand.  
"You're here!" She shouted with glee as her palm found my chest again.  
"Hey, I thought it's all play and no work today." I joked as I slowly set up for my own jump.  
"You have to be able to do both. Keeping the balance is hard right?"  
"Mmm. Mmmm..." I pushed her and missed, fumbling on the concrete as she burst out laughing. "So you say."  
  
\-------  
We've been out all of the afternoon. In public. The weight of this realization abruptly sunk in. My mind instantly transported us to the awe and relief that bathed me at the entrance of that science hall. So that's how it felt like to walk into a crowded room holding hands and no one took notice. I glanced around. The carpark was a quarter full, but the boldness from earlier still pumped me. My left hand cupped her side as my chin rested on her right shoulder, my body pulling up to hers from behind. She took a quick picture before my other hand brought hers to my hair as my nose nuzzled her skin. I breathed down her neck slowly and gently, planting it with leisurely yet deliberate kisses. Our fingers interlocked and she gave mine a tight squeeze before slipping them under her top. The dazzling, tingly sensation from my fingertips flushed through my body, and I could feel it switched gear. Her own body tensed up almost by surprise, accentuating her curves. Our irregular rhythms raced each other, making me even more restless. I held her tighter as my hands slowly traced her contour. Her petite form felt so soft and exposed at the same time. My ab tightened as her bra outline rubbed against my chest. Drawing a half breath, I whispered into her ears how much I loved her. How much I wanted to hold her like this for an eternity. She murmured something back though I could not make it out. My whole body was on fire, I could feel the heat through my jeans. Slightly embarrassed, I gave her a soft kiss on the lips before unraveling her. With her in my arms, out here in the open, I felt as complete as ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, fluff! My first time writing fluffs, so I try to bring out the guy's perspective a bit. (Just a bit...)  
> Hope it's not too little or too much. This chapter is dedicated to @DarknessOnIce (hence the title in Spanish). Your story with the dual POV is one of the inspirations for this work, so thank you!


	7. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Setting: after chapter 26 of Your Name. Yuzu parted with Zhenya after his mum seeing them holding hands.

  
We walked home in silence. She took slow and deliberate stride, while I shuffled along, dreading every step. We stopped to cross an intersection. My eyes were glued to the seconds ticking down on the pedestrian light. This is the calm before the storm. My mum looked completely neutral, and that unnerved me. The more she stays silent, it means the more truly upset she is.  
  
As soon as the elevator closed I felt queasy. My stomach contracted, my skin clammy, my mouth watered, like I was about to throw up. I felt like a boat caught in a turbulent sea, attacked, dragged and swayed in multiple directions. My thoughts swirled as various emotions surfaced: frustration, worried, anxiety. But no regret. It was a wonderful evening thus far and I don't want to taint it with regret. I've got to be strong and brave the hurricane face on. She broke the silence first.  
"Why didn't you tell me?"  
"My deepest apologies." I answered almost by reflex. "I was waiting for a good time to tell you."  
"Is there ever a good time?"  
  
She's right. I didn't know what exactly I was waiting for. For us to get gold medals in various competitions? For a miracle where my mum's view would gradually be changed? For a slow revelation? For all of the above? In reality, I just procrastinated and wiggled out of the conversation each time Zhenya brought it up. I was such a coward.  
"So how long has it been?"  
I squinted. When should one date the start of our relationship?  
"A couple of months. It's relatively new."  
"Who else knows?" Her voice was hushed and anxious.  
"Brian. Zhenya's mum. That's it."  
"And what do they say?"  
"They're... not against it."  
She raised her eyebrow and blinked, taking the information in, but did not utter another word. I felt like a thug confessing to a crime, head hung low. It started to drizzle. The storm is about to come in full-strength.  
\----------  
  
As soon as the door closed, I expected an explosion. My eyes involuntarily shut. A few seconds passed. They opened to find her slowly moving towards the kitchen in the dark apartment. My hand reached for the switch.  
  
"Don't."  
  
She motioned me to come in. Incredulous, I took off my shoes and instinctively moved towards the light. Thousands of neon signs and street lamps from afar illuminated the city below. I could hear the rumbling traffic, streams of cars splitting the air as they rolled past, casting a sequence of dancing shadows like a movie clip on an infinite loop.  
  
My eyes quickly adjusted. It was dark but we could comfortably see each other. She brought out a tea set and some onigiri.  
  
"Do you remember, it was pitch black at that evacuation center."  
She smiled as she filled the mugs.  
"And when we got home after a few days, it was pitch black too."  
"Yeah, I remember."  
"We would get one onigiri each for the day, and Saya and I would encourage you to eat our share." She looked out the window, smiling as she reminisced.  
"The Milky Way was amazing that night. I had always hoped that you would see it one day and you did. In my youth I would look up in awe and feel dwarfed by how large the universe is." Her eyes were directed at me but they seemed to focus on something far beyond.  
"Your Notte Stellata program always brought me back to that night." She paused. "I cry in silence every time I watch you performing it. It was that beautiful."  
I blushed. It's the first time she revealed her emotions on that program - on any program of mine in fact. This wasn't the storm I was expecting at all.  
  
  
"For you it's spring now. There are lots of hope."  
She wiped her eyes and resumed. "I knew our life would not continue like this forever. I cannot, and we never did force you on your career. Be it baseball, figure skating or science, it is your choice. Be it retirement, it is your choice."  
"Mum, I am not retiring." I interjected. "I am as motivated as ever, and she plays a big  role. Our relationship does not hurt our careers. We have this worked out."  
"I know." My mum affirmed. Her confidence stunned me into silence.  
"I trust Brian. If he is not against your relationship, then your careers are not of concerns." She explained.  
"And if Medvedeva's mum is not against it, then you both must be in love and be mature enough to handle it. I'm proud of you." She glanced at me and addressed the unformed question in my mind. "I know how it feels to have a daughter too."  
  
"However..."  
I held my breath, anticipating what comes next.  
"However. We must not forget that we are no longer living just for ourselves." Her words stern and determined. "Your achievements have come to symbolise hope for our nation, Yuzu. Whether we want it or not, we must accept that fact. You cannot disappoint."  
"But I'm not the one and only source of hope, aren't I." I warily made a point.  
"You are beyond Yuzuru Hanyu the athlete or the earthquake survivor. You are both, and that's what make you unique."  
My heart wrenched. She has hit the nail in the head. I recalled the struggle during my teenage years to make peace with the idea that I could be both. For years I've managed to seek refuge as an ordinary athlete in Canada. But in Japan I am both. An athlete and a survivor. And a survivor carries the burden to live for others.  
  
  
"It's not a choice, Yuzu." I heard her saying. "You cannot have everything."  
Tears were streaming down my cheeks. "No."  
"Your relationship has just only started. It may sound impossible now but you will meet others and fall in love again." She advised.  
"NO." I screamed and wept uncontrollably. She reached out and pulled me in close. Head in her lap, I attempted to speak between sobbing spasms, but nothing tangible came out.  
Then, forcefully and abruptly, I stood up and strung together a few words in between hiccups.  
"I won't give up."  
  
  
"Yuzu." My mum sat up straight. "Think about the logistics. You're both top-class athletes. Who is going to do the housework? The manager's work? You don't even speak each other's languages. Do you expect me and her mum to shadow you two for the rest of our lives?"  
"We will learn."  
"It's a full-time job. Two full-time jobs right now. Have you chatted about what each of you want out of this relationship? Who is going to sacrifice their time and effort?" She pressed on.  
"We won't be athletes forever."  
"Then have you envisioned how life will be after you both retire? Could she navigate everyday life in Japan by herself? You in Russia? How long would it all take?"  
"However long it takes." I regained my voice. "However long it takes, I won't give up."  
  
My mum took a step back and let out a deep sigh. She knew the obstinate me all too well.  
"Yuzu, it's not just your life and your name. It's mine too. At least for the next four years."  
"Yes I know." I responded. "That's why I am asking for your support."  
"Please support us."  
I bowed down deep and stayed there for what felt like forever, until I heard her bedroom door slammed shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, here's the scene! It's probably my favorite to write so far, hope you guys enjoy.


	8. Just this time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before Chapter 28 of Your Name. A couple of days before Skate Canada, drama unfolded around Yuzuru.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the OK from @mochiflowers, I'm posting this here. Her next chapter will tell the Skate Canada experience from Zhenya's view, of course.   
> The poem is "The Armful" by Robert Frost. There are millions of songs written about choices, but none of them can beat a classic. Please excuse the geek in me.

Skate Canada. Back in June when the assignments came out, I was stunned to find my name missing from its roster. Rumours surfaced, and yet again I found myself wishing that I wasn't *that* Yuzuru Hanyu. The turn of events served as a reminder of how little time left there is to atone for all my past silvers. Nevertheless there are two sides to a coin. I remembered the sigh of relief when I saw *her* name. Her first GP event, practically on home ground, only a hop away, and I was not competing. It could not get better.  
  
Or so I thought. Two days before the competition, I was living in a stupor. The anxiety was at its max, way worse than any competition I have ever experienced. I could not be more grateful for Brian taking her to another rink. We resorted to brief exchanges by texts. I deliberated over each word, careful to conceal my anxiety. The ordeal was taking its tolls on me, physically and mentally.   
  
"Yuzu, the charity show and the documentary got moved to this week." My mum informed me as she set up breakfast.    
"Yes" came my auto-response. Then my blood froze. This week? The week was almost over.   
"ANA has agreed to put you on first class. You could take the flight tonight and be back on Sunday."  
I swallowed hard. "Could this not be done later?"   
My mum shrugged. "You would have to talk to the producers."  
"Excuse me."   
I slammed down the bowl, grabbed the car key and was out of the door in a blink. The walk to the carpark had never been so cold. Frustration gave way to anger as my temper soared at an invisible enemy. Turning on the music, I took off driving with no particular destination in mind.   
  
Saying no was not an option. It was not any charity show, it was a special program opened to Fukushima survivors only. The event meant the world to me. I racked my brain for options but nothing came out.  
  
For every parcel I stoop down to seize  
I lose some other off my arms and knees,  
And the whole pile is slipping, bottles, buns,  
Extremes too hard to comprehend at once.  
Yet nothing I should care to leave behind.  
With all I have to hold with, hand and mind  
And heart, if need be, I will do my best.  
To keep their building balanced at my breast.  
I crouch down to prevent them as they fall;  
Then sit down in the middle of them all.  
I had to drop the armful in the road  
And try to stack them in a better load.  
  
  
Before I knew it the car was parked in front of her apartment. My legs moved on their own, carrying my body along the corridor. I had no idea why I'm here, but it somehow felt right. Taking a deep breath, I rang the door bell.   
"I'm coming!" Came the words in Russian. Seconds later the door swung open. Her mum was wearing a casual dress, make-up in one hand, her hair half-done. She clearly was expecting someone else. I took a deep bow.   
"Dobroye utro." I greeted. She nodded in acknowledgement. "Zhenya just left."  
"No, I am here to see you."   
"Oh." My words took her by surprise. She stepped aside. "Then come in."  
  
"I guess no suit nor flowers this time." She chuckled. She usually retreat to her room when I came over. From the few exchanges we've had, I've grown to like her sense of humour.   
"I might not be able to watch Skate Canada live." I immediately got the thought off my chest. She looked over me curiously.   
"Why are you telling me?"  
"Because you are the only one who would understand."  
Her eyes widened. Was that sympathy written across her face? We sat in silence and exchanged knowing looks.  
"Zhenya doesn't need it." She concluded. "You should know that yourself."   
  
Do I? Maybe that's why my subconscious took me here. I recalled competition days. The hours of waiting, the six minute warm-up, the deafening cheers followed by surreal silence in the thirty seconds before. Would I want to think of my family right then? Did it matter to me if they were watching at that second? Could I feel their support?   
  
No this was the wrong question. It's not about the protagonist, it's about the supporters. It dawned on me why they travel in groups to live competitions, join forums, or watch live broadcasts with commentaries. The pressure is too much to bear alone.   
  
"I would like to watch it with you." I offered.  
She blinked. The corner of her lips moved up ever so slightly, before she looked away, a hand covered her mouth. For the first time her tough mask melted a little, revealing the familiar warm-hearted, enduring mother underneath.  
"This is the second time you're messing me up, boy." She sniffed, wiping away a dry tear. "Once more and I won't let it go."  
I got up, thanked her and left. She stood by the door and nodded. Her gaze followed me down the hallway until her figure disappeared from the corner of my eyes. I had locked the future in at the impossible.    
\----------  
  
"Tadaima." The apartment looked almost identical to when I had left. The breakfast tray was still on the table untouched. My mum heated up the miso bowl and gestured me to resume the meal. It was surreal, like a dream. I stumbled forward.  
  
"Are you still mad at me?"   
"No, mum, I was never mad at you." I responded. "Could I have the contact of the producers please?"  
She disappeared into her room briefly and emerged with a binder.  
"I have the program."   
A stack of notes appeared by my side, as thick as my anatomy textbook. Stick-it tabs of various colors decorate the top and the side. I peered over the index. Story boarding. Choreographer meetings. Trial runs with music. Interview scripts. Minute-by-minute agenda. My fingers flipped through the pages, mindlessly scanning the words and flinching every time my name appeared. My attention was scattered, my thoughts in disarray. With the clock ticking down to my flight, this task was truly impossible.   
  
Before the despair could sink in, I abruptly stood up. I can climb this wall, I told myself. I've done it before. No, we've done it before. My mother is not the invisible enemy. If it can ever work, she has to be on my side. Our side. Zhenya had tried, and now it was my turn.   
  
"Did you know that Zhenya's mum never watched her live in competitions?" I wondered out loud. "So I promised to her that we would watch Skate Canada together."  
My mum's gaze was unyielding.   
"I thought you would understand, mother to mother."   
I clenched my jaw. This was it. The last card I had up my sleeves. Silence had never been so loud as I held my breath, scrutinizing her expression. Who knows what goes on in the mother's mind, but I was sure that the cogs are turning. Something flickered in her eyes. I rushed to her side and held her arms.  
"Please, mother. Please work with us."   
\------  
  
Hours later I got off the phone with the producers, the directors, ANA representatives, and an endless list of other people. During that time my mum carried on around the house, listening to my end of the conversation with an impassive face. They were polite as ever, and agreed to my solution: I would do a live streaming and an interview on early Friday with the film crew sent to cover Skate Canada. Exhausted, I collapsed on the table which was plastered with papers and scribbles. By the time I woke up the mess was replaced by a neat single sheet of agenda placed beneath my phone.   
"Brian wants to talk to you." My mum informed.  
  
"Yuzu? Your mum just notified me of your schedule." His tone sounded hesitant.   
"Yes?" I squeezed the phone closer to my ears, straining to hear his words.  
"We will get the live streaming equipment ready."  
"Yes."   
"I cannot be there as you know, so..."  
"Don't worry. I will skate to my exhibition program this season. And I can handle the film crew." I responded.   
"Please don't get carried away." Brian warned. "Tracy expects you at training afterwards. And..." His voice dropped off.  
"Yes?"  
"About the Skate Canada ticket."  
"I won't need a ticket." I said quickly. On the other end a sigh of relief came out.   
"My hair thank you." We closed off the conversation with some brief greetings.   
Relieved, I turned to my mum and gave her a bear hug.   
"Thank you!"   
"I only cleaned up the mess." She declared.  
Her detached gaze washed over me. I chose to ignore the disappointment in her eyes. Just this time, I mumbled to myself. Just this time.   
  
\------------------  
Friday afternoon. The recording and interview went well. The film crew had already left at some ungodly hour for Laval in time to cover Skate Canada. I swung by home to get change. To my surprise, a neat backpack waited for me near the door, complete with a change of clothes, toiletries, meals and the Pooh-san tissue box. It looked like the usual pack for me going into competitions, except that I have to carry it myself this time.   
  
My mum was nowhere in sight. I turned on the TV guide, trying to program a recording for the men's program. Skate Canada is the second Grand Prix event after the new ISU system. I wanted to watch it from the start to finish to better understand the scoring. A jolt of happiness hit me as I saw it has been set to recording. For both the men and the ladies. I pushed my palms together and rested my nose on my fingertips, eyes closed, lost for words.  
  
As I exited the highway into Laval, a thought unsettled me. We forgot to agree on a time and place to meet. A moment of panic took over. It was less than an hour until the last group. Should I text Zhenya? I hesitated. Maybe someone at TCC would know? Surely her details would be listed under emergency contacts. I pulled to the roadside and went through my address book. An unexpected entry in a different font caught my attention. "мама", it read. That sneaky girl, I smiled. For the first time in weeks, my body was completely relaxed. Zhenya, I have a great feeling. You will rock this program. You will.


	9. Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parallel to chapter 28 of Your Name. Yuzu was by himself, waiting for Zhenya's free program.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think Zhenya has announced her free for this season yet. I'm also far from an FS expert, so please pardon me if my technical descriptions don't make sense. (Do let me know how I can improve though!).

I fiddled with the spreadsheet in front of me. Each line was one skater, each column was an element of their free, while the last one was the base value of their program. These were calculations for the men's free based on the protocols released this afternoon. Going through such calculations for the ladies would be unnecessary, for Zhenya would be the last to skate and I knew her program by heart. 3F / 3S / 3Lz / 2A+3T / 3F+2T+2Lo /3Lz+3Lo / 2A. With five points advantage over Wakaba going into the free, she should be in good position.  
  
Still I felt nervous as I paced the empty hotel room. My heart rate gradually ramped up as the event drew closer and closer. Indistinctive chatter filtered through the hotel window, punctuated by sounds of engines starting and stopping. Groups of fans streamed in and out of buses like schools of fish, their flags and banners lit up the alley in a festive mood. A Sailor Moon outfit drew a smile on my face. I imagined their conversations, ranging from skating to traveling, to personal interests, to mundane and everyday topics, and back to skating again. How I missed that back and forth, nonsensical bantering. How I wished to be part of that crowd.  
  
Zhenya and I had been too caught up in work lately. And today was a bad day to catch skating friends. Nobu was busy casting the event. Javi was probably being Javi, maybe he had just gone to bed - it's what, 4AM in Spain right now?. Bored, I glanced at my phone. My news feed was full of useless headlines. "Favorite Medvedeva is in the lead." Nothing I didn't already know.  
  
Earphones in, I navigated to the familiar Zhenya fan forum to relax. Some new photos and fanarts from her Thursday practices were amazing. I secretly bookmarked them, wishing one day I could have a collage of her pictures on my wall. Some trivia were interesting, and some rumours were hilarious. "She has a telepathic connection to ladybugs and have a couple as pets" - really? I giggled.  
  
And so time passed, until it's 30 minutes from her program. My palm soaked with sweat as I packed, hat on, mask on. The scheme was to join her mum in her hotel room, five minutes walk from here. With so many skating fans around, I had to be careful. After scrutinizing my disguise in front of the mirror, I took one last swipe at the forum.  
  
To my horror, my name appeared in a thread with more than twenty pages of updates. I rubbed my eyes. Did I refresh the wrong forum? New posts were still coming in.  
"Perfect couple on ice! They are adorable!"  
"Oh so he denied it months ago and that was all fake?"  
"Our ship is canon!"  
  
It took a moment to locate the Instagram video. I watched, motionless, from the beginning to the end. Like the spotlight tracking us, vivid details of that night flooded me while others remained obscured. The sound of the door slam shut woke me up from my trance. That's right, it has to be someone from the club. Anonymous account, first post. Why did I not hunt that rat down earlier. My mind flew into a blind rage.  
  
Wait, WAIT. I shook my head. The timing. This is the worst possible timing for her. Does she know? What if she knows? What if...  
Hand shaking, I held the phone to my head.  
"The number you dialed is currently not available. Please try back..."  
"Kuso!" My ears were pulsing. I tried for the third time but to no avail.  
Fumbling, I reached out to Brian.  
  
"Brian, a video of us leaked." I screamed into the phone.  
"Brian, Brian?"  
It took a moment for the words to register.  
"Video? What video?"  
"We were skating together after hours at the club months ago." I gritted my teeth.  
"Someone leaked it online just now. Someone from the club."  
I could hear loud cheers in the background. The first of the last group must have taken to the ice.  
"Brian, I need to know where Zhenya is."  
"Yuzu." Brian regained his voice. "There's nothing you can do here. Let me work with Zhenya." And the line was cut.  
  
Before I knew it, I was behind the wheels, speeding out of the hotel garage like a scene from an action movie. The venue was not too far away, but it's difficult to get parking close by. And how was I going to get in? I pondered for a minute. I could call Shoma or Jason and borrow their badges. That would take too much time, I decided. The men ceremony finished hours ago, they were probably all asleep. I could call JSF representatives. They were in the venue. No, better, TV crews. That's right. Those guys who interviewed me yesterday morning. I made a succession of quick phone calls and parked the car in the media zone. In that stricken state, it did not occur to me to avoid the media.  
  
Minutes ticked by as I waited in agony. With the windows rolled down I could hear cheers erupted every once in a while. The knot in my stomach got tighter and tighter. The crew must be too busy filming, I concluded. Or that my message got muddled inside that wild arena. Maybe they just could not believe that I am here. I must have sounded like a lunatic, trying to get inside the last minutes of a ladies competition, at a place five hours drive away, for no tangible reasons.  
  
Time to get creative. I got out of the car and briskly paced towards the back entrance. A few volunteers were standing around, yawning. Often quite a few of them are skating fans, as their jobs get them to interact with skaters in first person. But I needed to maximize my chance. My eyes picked out a young Asian woman in her twenties standing by herself near the loading dock.  
  
"Hi." I walked up to her and took off my face mask and hat. "I am Yuzuru Hanyu and I lost my badge."  
She squinted and rubbed her eyes, seemingly unable to believe what she just saw. I continued with a smile.  
"Could I borrow yours?"  
She shook her head and put a hand around the lanyard. I was unfazed.  
"I just need it to get back in. Once I found mine, I will return yours."  
"Yuzu.. Yuzuru...? Are you... real?" She stammered.  
"Yes. But quick, I'd like to get in before others notice." I winked and leaned away from the shadows slightly so she could see me better. Sufficiently convinced, she took a quick glance around and handed me her badge. Just as my legs got ready to run, her hand grabbed my shirt from behind. I spun around, putting a finger on my lips.  
"It's a secret between us."  
And with a subtle but deliberate blow kiss, I untangled my shirt from her fingers. My face blushed crimson as I sneaked away, adjusting my disguise. That was a little bit much, but I needed this badge as swiftly as possible.  
  
The venue was big. From out here the announcement was difficult to make out. Zhenya's turn must be any minute now. I could feel my ears moving slightly as they became hypersensitive, waiting for her song like a runner anticipating the loud bang from the starting gun. Something didn't feel right. There was so much crowd noise, how could they take that long to clear the ice? Before I could reach the skater's area, a security guard stopped me.  
"May I see your badge?"  
I impatiently flashed him the piece of plastic.  
"Logistics volunteers are not allowed back here."  
My stomach dropped. This badge won't get me through?  
  
"This is a mistake. I'm not a volunteer. I'm from the Japan Skating Federation."  
I pointed to the logo on my shirt. The guard was visibly confused.  
"I can prove my identity. Please call a JSF representative here." I urged him. "It's an emergency."  
Another guard dashed off while he stayed with me. More cheers. More clapping. I could barely stand still. Don't attract too many questions, a voice warned in my head. I shifted my weights back and forth while learning the building layout from the evacuation plan plastered on the wall.  
  
Did I just hear her name? My ears were throbbing. The noise were unending amidst the cheering. It was then that the realization hit me. This must have been the medal ceremony already. My hands sunk to my knees as I panted. I expected myself to collapse in defeat, anxiety giving way to exhaustion. To my surprise, my desire to see her was greater than ever. Her program had just finished. Aren't I here for nothing?  
  
Before I could reach for my phone, a familiar red and white JSF jacket appeared in front of me. "Hanyu-senshu?" Kobayashi-san stuttered.  
"I need to get in here immediately." I acknowledged her with a quick nod and spoke in rapid Japanese. "Please confirm with him that I'm from JSF so that I can get in." I motioned towards the guard. "And... I wasn't supposed to be here." I added a quick warning.  
  
Confusion was written all over her face, but she did not ask further questions. I felt guilty for exploiting her trust. She exchanged some words with the guard and ran after me as I looked for the backstage area.  
"Han...-kun. Why are you here? Could I help you?"  
"Yes, I am looking for Evegenia Medvedeva." I gritted my teeth.  
"She should be with other medalists." She answered, still disoriented.  
"Where's the room?"  
"Are you ok? This is the ladies event."  
"Yes I know." I replied impatiently. "I need to see her immediately."  
  
All this commotion in Japanese is attracting quite a few pairs of eyes. I lowered my voice. "There's a... family emergency. I need her to know." My cheeks heated up from the lie. It's not technically a lie, I told myself.  
  
"Then this way." She motioned towards a corridor, and I sprinted away before she could finish. At that instance, I realized the true reason that I wanted to reach her before anyone else did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was quite hard to write but in the end I'm happy with the results.  
> Thanks to Mochiflowers for encouraging a flirty Yuzu scene. ;)  
> Hope you guys enjoy!


	10. Is it impossible?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuzuru's view of the Exhibition with Zhenya.

For the second time in the afternoon I stood in the tunnel facing the black curtains, trying to flick the nervousness off my extremities. Zhenya was doing some last minute fix on her make-up. I had told the producers to swap the numbers, so that we would skate last. The delay was ostentatiously justified as preparation time, but in reality was I anything but prepared. I tried all the usual techniques before competitions: focusing on my breaths, staying in the moment, not thinking beyond the task ahead. It is only an exhibition, I reminded myself. Three and a half minutes out there, with a simplified choreo. Stop giving it more meanings than that. I,... we, had practiced.  
  
The thought of practice shot a pang of guilt through me. This morning I had been a control freak, insisted on getting my ways. Every minute of the run through session was excruciating. I replayed that video in my mind. The original impromptu skate was beautiful and natural, a telepathic connection kept us perfectly in sync. How could we replicate that moment again? It's impossible. We had to engineer a different version, one for the public to see. Yet we had to put in enough moments to convince them that the practice was just a well-done routine. The balancing act drove me to the edge, and Zhenya had to endure all of that. _Zhenya, I'm so sorry._  
  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome, two-time Olympic gold medalist Yuzuru Hanyu and Olympic silver medalist Evgenia Medvedeva!"  
  
Before I knew it she was next to me, reaching for my hand as we walked out, waving. My nerves was amplified a thousand times by all the buzzing in the stands. _It's just a performance_ , I mimed. Yet the thought barely registered amidst thousands of other thoughts cramming my mind. Don't the cheers feel different today? They didn't expect me here after all. How many of them have seen the video? Would they be able to tell the difference? Would they be disappointed?  
  
I scanned the darkness as I took my spot on the cold rink, my back against Zhenya's. There were gawking stare from the stands. I just could not feel the support.  
  
You know I want you  
It's not a secret I try to hide  
  
I love performing, I love it when I'm the center of attention, when all eyes are on me, blazing with anticipation. Yet at this moment I felt so vulnerable. Despite extensive media coverage, I was never ready for all aspects of my life to go under the microscope in public. And definitely not this.  
  
I know you want me  
So don't keep saying our hands are tied  
  
My body was moving on its own, out of my control. Just like that night. I forced myself through the simplified choreography yet the motion felt awkward. My eyes kept on darting in her direction like a beginner. My feet felt like they want to detach from my body and move to that Instagram video. We were quickly out of sync. Added a random toe step here, skipped the twizzle there. My own body and brain struggled to connect, never mind following Zhenya. This was far from perfect.  
  
You claim it's not in the cards  
And fate is pulling you miles away  
And out of reach from me  
  
My eyes locked on hers as we skated towards each other for the first time in the skate. How many times have I gazed at those deep brown eyes in wonder. They were gentle and comforting, but deep down I could see a burning torch of passion. Just like those stars. Tantalizingly close and yet so elusive. I thought of that competitive switch somewhere in my cortex. A voice gradually grew. _Just enjoy yourself. Enjoy this once-in-a-lifetime moment. For it might not come around again._  
  
I rested her hand on my heart and held onto it, completely impromptu, as we mirrored each other's movement. Our fingers interlocked for a brief moment before I guided them over my hair.  
  
But you're here in my heart  
So who can stop me if I decide  
That you're my destiny?  
  
They traced my neck and shoulder before joining me at my palm. With a gentle push and a subtle sway of my hip, I cued her in a single spin which turned into a double, and my hands glossed over her bareback to catch her at the hips just in time with the music.  
  
We parted again to do our own solos. I no longer tried to control the steps, but just allow the music to permeate my skin and let my body improvise on the spot. As I finished a mohawk, I glanced back to find her superbly mirroring my movements, a couple of seconds behind but still on the beat. I beamed in confidence.  


You'd be the one I was meant to find  
It's up to you, and it's up to me  
No one can say what we get to be  
  
This was no longer a performance, these were not roles we're playing. We were narrating our story, our struggles, our relationships out in the open, broadcasting it for the entire world to see. My lips moved on their own, fervently reciting the lyrics as if they were magical spells.  
  
So why don't we rewrite the stars?  
Maybe the world could be ours  
Tonight.  
  
I landed a beautiful triple axel on the note. My eyes closed for a second as I absorbed it all in, my body leaned forward on the spread eagle and my skates traced out a semi-circle around Zhenya. I thought I could hear her giggling, whispering something. Her breath sent a surge of hope rippling through me. It felt so natural again, just the two of us on the ice, in the dark.    
  
Just as I was getting into it, the lyrics changed.  
  
You think it's easy  
You think I don't want to run to you  
But there are mountains  
And there are doors that we can't walk through  
  
I watched Zhenya going through her choreo sequence. Her red dress in the spotlight spread out like petals of a hibiscus flower under the sun, in vivid contrast with the glaring white ice and the pitch black background. True to the lyrics, her face crumbled under agony and resignation. It was mesmerizing. I blanked out on my own steps and turned them into crossovers.    
  
I know you're wondering why  
Because we are able to be just you and me  
Within these walls  
  
She was in front of me now as we started moving in unison, shoulders and chests shimmering to the bass beat. Eyes closed, I held her right hand up to my face, turned so that my nose and lips touch her skin ever so lightly. They slipped down her arm contour and ended at her neck. The fleeting moment transported me back to the carpark roof top. Intense pain pulsed through my chest as I peeled myself away.

  
No one can rewrite the stars  
How can you say you'll be mine?  
Everything keeps us apart  
And I'm not the one you were meant to find  
  
Thousands of electric sparks blasted through my body, making my hair stand on ends.  
The rink gradually shrunk around me. I could feel thousands glares, not to mention the millions watching live across the Pacific.  
  
It's not up to you, it's not up to me  
When everyone tells us what we can be  
  
As I entered the flying camel, flashbacks from previous competitions superimposed on each other, merging the audience into a solid wall with uncountably many identical faces moving as one. Occasionally their stare tore away from us and switched to a screen in front, where they were entering the scores like how the judges usually do. Their lips started to move and I forcefully broke out of the spin, trembling.  
  
The hallucination skyrocketed my heart rate. My head was going into a vortex. At that very moment, the beat picked up, signaling entry to the triple Lutz. Facing the wrong way, with Zhenya out of my field of vision, I entered the jump with practically no speed.   
  
All I want is to fly with you  
All I want is to fall with you  
  
By some miracle I stayed on my feet. Regaining balance, I quickly covered the shaky landing with some ad lib choreo before dropping into the hydroblade to meet up with hers. I could hear loud cheers from the audience as we orbited around each other, our faces almost parallel to the ice. Did she fumble that Lutz too? If she made a mistake as well that would actually fit with the song, I mused bitterly. Our story all started with this jump. _I broke your hand. I betrayed Brian. I made you silver again. The more I tried to intervene the worse it gets. I'm just in your way. I am sorry, Zhenya. I am sorry._  
  
We met up for one final time at the center, mimicking each other in alternate beats before joining up at the last line.  
  
It feels impossible  
Is it impossible?  
  
Our bodies found each other again, and I pulled her in tight. This would be our last contact. We were so close, I could smell the scent of her lipstick. My form enveloped hers again. A shiver traveled down my spine as my mind fought the urge to kiss her right then. _We had our kiss._ I dared not to look into her eyes, for they would never let me leave. The impression of her skin burned into my memory. My body seemingly want to freeze, desperate to preserve this moment. The seconds lingered, then, slowly but surely, she unraveled from my arms.  _Please don't, Zhenya. I am not ready._ Our hands were the last to part. I watched as her fingertips extended, sucking every ounce of hope from me with them, stored it in her fist and threw it up high.  
  
The first chorus returned and I scrambled to find the confidence I had minutes ago. Instead, pain randomly appeared all over my body. The lyrics betrayed my feelings, sending me into a panic.  
  
It's up to you, and it's up to me  
No one can say what we get to be  
  
I recoiled in fear as I entered the last combination spin. The faces did not appear, yet I could feel, no, hear their lips moving. They were chanting words, my own words, in my own voice. Those were all the lies that I told, all the lies that took me here. They did not want me here. There were so many obstacles, so many warning signs. My mind was drowned in a storm of thoughts. I should have been in Japan, skating in front of the audience whom I cared about the most. My stomach contracted, expelling air out of my lungs, leaving me breathless. The Bielman sent every muscle on my torso screaming in agony. I felt suffocated, by the world, by its opinion. By myself.  
  
The spotlight solely focused on Zhenya as the song reached the outro. A vague fear that something bad is going to happen rapidly consumed me. I dashed through backstage and took the nearest exit.  
  
You know I want you  
It's not a secret I try to hide  
But I can't have you  
We're bound to break and  
My hands are tied  
  
Echoes of the audience clapping chased after me. I stumbled into the car, took off my skates and drove away in a sobbing mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone,  
> @Mochiflowers will post it from Zhenya's view soon. Her draft was beautiful - I had great fun reading our work side-by-side while listening to Rewrite the Stars. I would encourage you all to do the same! 
> 
> I'm sorry that Yuzu ran away. >.< You'll get to see what goes on in his mind in the next chapter. So hang on there! ;)


	11. Take me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first song is Jason Mraz's 93 million miles. Yes, I'm an avid Jason Mraz fan. :)  
> The other is Brave by Sara Bareilles (see chapter 31 of Your Name).

The highway stretched out into the horizon. The more welcoming it seemed when I left Toronto two days ago, the more narrow and oppressive it was now as I returned. I was on autopilot, absentmindedly directing the car along, numb and stunned. Familiar melodies filled the air. Far from the usual restorative effect, this time the music quickly worn me out. I was searching too hard for meanings in songs not even written for us.  
  
  
Toronto exit in 4km. I blinked, taking in the surroundings. The five-hour drive had passed by without me taking much notice. The familiar concrete jungle loomed large in front of me. Its highways entwined, twisted, joining and separating from each other like the writhing bodies of giant serpents. Dusk had fallen long before, giving way to a full moon, high and bright. I turned into the exit tunnel. The flashing shadows reminded me of that terrifying hallucination I had during the exhibition. My head felt dizzy again.  
  
  
I stopped by the roadside and habitually checked my phone. An outgoing call to Brian, of which I had no recollection of. Otherwise, no missed calls. No calls from her. Of course, her phone was broken. Details of the ordeal gradually came back to me. My upper body slumbered on top of the steering wheels, eyes closed, head down.  
  
  
Oh, my my how beautiful, oh my irrefutable father  
He told me, "Son sometimes it may seem dark  
But the absence of the light is a necessary part.  
Just know, you're never alone, you can always come back home"  
  
  
Yes, moments like this had always brought me home. A warm cup of tea, a knowing glance, some encouraging words. But this time I dreaded going home. My mum and I had been through many things together, we were always moving through each obstacle as a unit, inseparable. But not this time. This time, we were not on the same page. I cannot go home. Pain seeped through me like water, surrounding me, drowning me in desolation and hopelessness.  
  
  
There was only one option left. My fingers turned the key, sending the engine into a roar.  
The fuel needle barely moved. I was not that far away. Maybe it's a test from Above, to see how far I could run. I pressed on without refueling.  
  
  
The Cricket Club parking lot was deserted. That's right, there's always skating. There's only skating. This was the only way left for me to find peace. I needed some time to calm down, to let my analytical mind methodically take charge, to see if I could dig myself, us, out of this hole. Bag in my hand, I swiped the keycard at the door and entered through the lobby. There's no one here. There should be no one here. Just then, my legs stopped dead as I sensed the familiar shadow at the far corner of the rink.  
\--------------  
  
  
She was in practice gear, a black tank top with crisscross laces covering her back, black tights covering her skates. No matter how many times I had seen her in practice, my pulse still quickened at her sight. I stood in the dark hallway, watching her fiddling with the audio equipments. With determination, she deftly yanked off the blade guards, placed them on the bench, and took to the ice.  
  
  
3Lz. 3Lz+3Lo. 3Lz+3T.  
  
  
She nailed them all with ease. She was completely absorbed, her face focused and determined. However the media session went, she must have handled it well. Or at least, she was not letting it into her head now. I leaned against the wall, admiring her from afar. With every jump landed on the music accents, she grew more confident. Her body was blazing with a fighting spirit, perfectly complement the rhythm. I had never heard of this song before. My ears tuned in to the chorus.  
  
  
Say what you wanna say  
And let the words fall out  
Honestly I wanna see you be brave  
  
  
3Lz+2T+2T. My joints swayed along to the beat, and before long, my body felt lighter. A thought popped into my head. Could it be that she knew I was here? No, it's impossible - I quickly reassured myself. She was completely in the zone, a feeling I knew all too well. When the whole world dissolves in the background, the music flows like your blood, your heart pulses to the bass, your body is on fire and your boots are like wings. I must not be in her mind. _This is your level, Zhenya. You are a champion. You worked so hard to get here, you fought every battle, every day. You are brave._  
  
  
Don't run, stop holding your tongue  
Maybe there's a way out of the cage where you live  
Maybe one of these days you can let the light in  
Show me how big your brave is  
  
  
3Lz+3T+3T+3T+3T(!?) That's defying physics. Though the last one was under-rotated, maybe...? She let out a laugh and I found myself grinning too. It took me back to our jump battle a while ago, was it at the 2017 Worlds gala? Happiness radiated from her body as she whizzed around the ice. My feet, my body were itching to join her. _Maybe I can be brave too if I stand by your side._  
   
Innocence, your history of silence  
Won't do you any good  
Did you think it would?  
Let your words be anything but empty  
Why don't you tell them the truth?  
  
  
As she launched herself for yet another triple Lutz, her hair became undone. Instinctively I reached for my left wrist and took out the hair tie. _Here, Zhenya. Take this._ I tried to call out to her but my jaws were locked. Would she want to see me? Would she listen? I drew a breath, trying to tame my fears.  
  
  
Say what you wanna say  
And let the words fall out  
Honestly I wanna see you be brave  
  
  
I walked towards the light, clutching the hair tie in my palm.  
She was at the other end of the rink now, practicing her spins. I closed my eyes, anticipating the moment that she would find me. Lightening flashed outside of the window, taking me back to that moment in my room. That's right, not too long ago, I was standing by myself too, the hair tie in my palm. It was my only memento of you, after a night gone wrong.  
  
  
_Thanks for everything._  
  
  
The day that followed was the toughest time yet. I was a sobbing mess, mentally picking up pieces of a shattered heart. I was so close to giving up then. I dread going through that again.  
  
  
I just wanna see you  
I wanna see you be brave  
  
  
My eyes glanced at the hair tie. Silver stripes interwoven each other around a thick elastic band. I remembered the silver dress.  
  
  
_I'm not as brave as you think I am._  
  
  
Shame and guilt washed over me. That's right, we are like the Sun and the Moon. We are so different. I cannot face my deepest fears about us. I shoved them down a pit, mentally covered them up with a tarp, held down in place by ignorance. Only for that tarp to be blown open one day, leaving you behind in a storm. Flying debris cut your skin, whip your heart, torture your soul, and I was nowhere in sight.  
  
  
_You're perfect, Zhenya. I don't deserve you._  
  
  
Tears were welling up in my eyes again. This wasn't the peaceful, calming skate that I had imagined. Hands trembling, I could not put the hair tie back on. At that moment, the triumphant last note of the song caught me off guard. She was turning in my direction. I froze for a moment, and before long, my legs were in motion again. The hair tie fell to the ground.  
  
  
\------------------  
  
  
I banged my head against the steering wheel, cursing underneath my breath. The car wouldn't start. Was that a sign, a command for me stay? I swallowed hard. Just then, a bus appeared in my rear view mirror. I left my bag in the car and rushed across the street, barely checked for traffic. It was deserted. The driver looked up at me, glanced at the clock and the timetable, and then pulled the handbrake. This damn bus was too early? Seconds ticked by as my breathing got shallower and more restless.  
  
  
_Please put an end to this. Please find me._ My lips whispered between sobs. My eyes were fixated on the Cricket Club's entrance, anticipating its movement. The moment came and went. The bus tilted away from the curb, the engine brake lifted. My eyes gradually closed as the doors slowly shut. _It's over, Zhenya. It has been decided for me, for us. My life is not my own._  
  
  
As the bus turned the corner, my stomach jolted at the sight of a familiar silhouette. There she was, chasing after me. She was losing ground but she wasn't giving up. I could feel those eyes following me, like how mine had follow her months ago, on a night like this, on an empty bus like this. My fingers were scrambling for the stop button, yet my stomach cramped up and my body doubled over in pain. _Zhenya, I need you._ I reached for my left wrist, only to find that it's raw and cold, my pulse throbbing. My mind flashed back to the hair tie on the hallway. Did she know? Did she give up? Am I giving up? The emotional pendulum swung to the other extreme again, and my brain just could not cope. Too numb and exhausted, my soul watched on from above as the bus wheeled my body away.  
  
  
\----------------------  
  
  
The sun was high. My vision gradually came in focus. My eyes cast around an almost bare room that I could not recognize as my own. The empty bedside table squat in front of the door like a barricade. The table and chair were pushed to the far corner, creating a large space in the middle of the room where I was laying.  
  
  
Memory slowly trickled in. I must have collapsed on the bed with a locked door, for I remember hearing nervous thudding and muffled pleas. Some snippets were vivid, like how my mum was terrified as I packed all my medals in boxes and threw them outside of my room. Others had to be dreams. Lucid images and intense emotions fumbled out in no particular order. I was at my first senior event after the earthquake. I was staring at the flat rubble extending miles out that used to be Sendai airport. Yet other fragments of that night were a blur between dream and reality. At some point I relived White Legend, the exhibition I did at a charity ice show in Kobe, with the emotions of a bird emerging out of its dark cave taking flights. Except that the surroundings were my room, stripped of its decors. That feeling of despair, followed by a sense of purpose and unlimited freedom rushed through me. After the skate I collapsed on the ice, or maybe the futon, exonerated and released of all burdens. My head sunk into the pillow, and that was the last thing I could summon from my mind.  
  
  
I came into the en-suite to gulp down some water. A harrowing creature greeted me in the mirror. Puffy and sunken eyes, cheeks hollowed, cracked lips, hair in a mess. That's right, it had been at least twenty-four hours since I last ate. My stomach churned at the thought of food, threatening to vomit. I filled it up with water and took a shower. Slowly, I rearranged the furniture in my room.  
  
  
My mum let out a cry and covered her mouth as I emerged behind the door.  
"I'm ok." I mumbled quickly before taking in the boxes of medals. My fingers hit the door knob once more. At this rate I cannot, do not want to turn up at TCC. My mum was knocking on the door, coaxing me to get out. My mind stubbornly refused. I just wanted to be left alone, to collect pieces of my dignity alone, if there were any left.  
  
  
I heard another knock, this time in a different pace and further away. A clang as the main door latched open. Could it be her? I strained my ears. My body instinctively moved towards the door to hear it better.  
"He's locked himself up, hasn't he? He won't talk, right?"  
"Let me try. Please."  
I flung the door open. My heart almost jumped outside of my chest. She was here, as beautiful as ever. Her mouth gaped open as she saw me, alarmed at the sight.  
"Zhenya"  
Her eyes met mine. They were compassionate and knowing. A gush of relief washed over me, that was all I needed. My body collapsed onto hers in a tight hug.  
"I missed you."  
She probably wanted answers. I didn't have any. A thousand stones filled my stomach again, and in a panic I took a step back.  
  
\--------  
"It wasn't a mistake. You liked it."  
"I didn't."  
"Stop lying to yourself, Yuzu. You did."  
  
_Yes it was_. If there was any air left in my lung I would have screamed those words at her. But I was too tired to protest, and at the same time, too scared of confining myself within these walls. Images of that day replayed in my mind. Us holding hands at the crowded science center. Us holding hands running through the market. Us holding hands on the rooftop. Us holding hands in front of my mum.  
  
A lump rose up my throat. At that moment, she reached out for my hand, her warm fingers firmly wrapped around mine. I shuddered slightly at her touch, but I did not drop her hand like last time. Maybe she was right. I did not want to dismiss everything. Unlike last time we were starting from the bottom now. _Take me, Zhenya. Take me away. Let me be beside you and be brave._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, this is definitely the second last chapter (the end is near, :) and :'( at the same time). 
> 
> I hope this chapter gives some explanations on what Yuzu has been through. My writing is generally not very overt, so please do read between the lines (if something appeared twice it's probably intentional!)
> 
> Enjoy!


	12. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mochiflowers is wrapping up her story. This is the time to take my bow. Many thanks for sticking with us until the end.

We sat next to each other on the bus. My hand clung onto hers, desperate not to let go.  
She sat by the window, hand on her cheek bone, quietly pondered as the world passed by. Her aura resolute and determined. Something felt like an hour passed before I could convince myself that this was not a figment of my imagination. She was here, she really came back for me, even after I had abandoned her when she needed me the most.  
  
"Zhenya. I am sorry. I am sorry for all the pain I caused. For... running away."  
  
Her brown eyes bore deep into my soul. No amount of apology could make up for what I did. A thundercloud threatened to rain in my mind again.  
  
"I am so sor..." My voice came to a halt. Vivid images of that hallucination came back again, followed by the insurmountable shame and guilt that I lived through last night. I didn't even know where to start. My fingers clutched hers even more tightly. She gave me a knowing nod. Her palm turned around as she cusped my hand between them and giving it a gentle squeeze. I was grateful for her warmth and the silence that followed.  
  
As my nerves gradually calmed down, my mind started to register the surroundings. We had been on this bus for a while, yet it was getting more and more crowded. The sheer amount of professional cameras, tripods and lenses brought flashbacks of press conferences. I fiddled in my seat, feeling the need to duck down or cover my face. _Calm down, these people are clearly tourists_ , I told myself. We must be going to a major tourist destination. Some scenic place. A couple of hours away from Toronto. An inkling of a guess grew by the minute. It was confirmed when the name of the last stop appeared.  
  
"Why here, Zhenya?"  
  
The bus came to a stop. My body was glued to the seat, my legs had turned into lead.  
  
"Please do this with me," she pleaded.  
  
"I can't."  
  
"This is the most beautiful place in this city--in this country--and you don't want see it. Why?" She inquired.  
  
"I don't know." I shook my head. My ears pricked at the low, unmistakable rumble in the distance amidst the exciting chatter as the passengers embarked.  
  
"I do. You're afraid."  
  
"How do you know what I'm afraid of? I've never told you."  
  
"I know." Her confidence stunned me.

_We're starting from the bottom now. There's nothing to lose._

My feet shuffled to let her out, while my hands reached for my pocket. As we got off, I quietly slipped them on.  
  
There it was, in full view. An unimaginably massive wall appeared in front me, streams of water tumbling down and accelerating to terminal velocity. I peered down the depth, where foams and vapour where rising, obscuring the final point of contact behind a screen of clouds. My feet shifted uneasily on the trembling ground, my hands gripped white-knuckled to the railing to steady myself. My eyes scanned up high, where the dark blue water was being rapidly sucked into the frightful depth, choppy waves scrambling over each other in vain to escape. Droplets of water splashed onto my face, cold and numbing. As the snappy air filled my lungs, my nose and eyes started to water.  
  
Niagra Falls. It was intimidating, terrifying, formidable. Around me, impatient photographers, professional and amateur alike, were desperate to get the best shot of the full rainbow beneath. It was beautiful, awe-inspiring, strong and unyielding next to that Falls. Like the woman beside me.  
  
In the lake beneath, a large boat slowly made its way towards the Falls. I shivered as my imagination create the view, the sensation from down there. Sweats soaked my forehead, my palm turned clammy. I stepped away, giving up the spot to another tourist to regain composure.  
  
"How did you know?" My voice was barely audible.  
  
"You haven't come here because you're afraid of it. You're afraid of seeing how amazing and wonderful it is. You're afraid of letting yourself get attached to another place, another city, because you feel like you owe so much to your home."  
  
Ah, yes. That too. She was right. I never did belong here, despite this being the one place where I can live a normal life. I struggled with English for years. _I am a migrant worker, I am here to work_ , a voice always reminded me.

 _My heart belongs to home, half-way around the Earth. There is only one place I can allow myself to be attached to, Zhenya, because their support means the world to me when it comes to skating. I am here not for myself. I am not skating just for myself._  
  
"You're right. But I didn't ask for this. It's who I am. I'm not just Yuzuru Hanyu, Olympic gold medalist. I'm Yuzuru Hanyu, earthquake survivor."  
  
We held our gaze. Her mouths opened and closed for several times before she could form a sentence.  
  
"I know you love your people," She nodded. "I love mine, too. I'll never forget where I'm from. I'll always skate for them. But it's okay to love other things, too. It's okay to live your life. It's okay to move on."  
  
"How can I move on, Zhenya?"  
  
_How can I, Zhenya? Compared to the scale of the loss, I was relatively unscathed. I'm not sure if I should even be called a survivor. My suffering is nowhere near what tens of thousands of people have had to bear. In the immediate aftermath, I have barely contributed. Up until now, contributions I have made are like buckets of water on a desert. Instead, I have been the recipient of unwavering, earnest support._  
  
"People are still struggling and somehow I think I deserve to have whatever I want?"  
  
"You're a symbol of hope, you know that more than anyone. But do you know WHY you're a symbol of hope?"  
  
I closed my eyes and shook my head.

 _It's not that I don't know. But that's not how it goes. I go after my dreams, I succeed, I inspire people. That's what people say. But in the process I sacrificed many other dreams of my own. That's what they don't see._  
_The dreams I went after are not just my dreams, they are also the dream of a nation. I do it for them. Hope, to many, is like magic: you believe in it, you want it and it happens. But you need to know what you want. When you carry that hope, it's no longer a magical spell. It won't, it can't, just, happen. Hope is a staircase. It's a series of mini-steps to reach that pinnacle. Everyone can hope. Everyone can dream. But not everyone becomes the symbol of hope. I know what they want, Zhenya. I have received so much support, and I cannot disappoint._  
  
"What more could living your life mean than not letting anything stop you from going after your dreams?"  
  
The internal voice in me was quiet. My eyes darted to the Falls again. In the distant, a flock of birds were spearheading south, oblivious to the monsterous depth that they were glossing over. There were many things that stopped me from going after my dreams. Major moments of my career flashed by my eyes. Then all of a sudden, another voice broke the silence.

  
_They're there to remind me that I won't let anything stop me from going after my dreams._  
  
_That's it._ My heart skipped a beat, like that moment in grade school when I was struggling with a math problem. After various dead-end computations had led to so much despair, a tiny observation would signal a new path. Though not all details had fallen in place, in a flash I could see that this was the missing piece of the puzzle.

 _That's it. I just need to decide once and for all, are you my dream. Can I hope to be with you?_  
  
  
"I understand if those dreams don't include me."  
  
Her words shook me to the core. My arms wanted to envelope her, but I held my ground. No, I cannot let the autonomous nervous system drive me any longer. All the cards are on the table now, and I need to make this decision once and for all.  
  
I closed my eyes and pictured her turning away. Her void filled by the chilling air, enveloping me in the cold condensation and mist. The Falls suddenly felt closer and larger than ever, its curtains of water thicker and even more terrifying than before. Fear rapidly consumed me, demanding every bit of my conscious to hold on.

  
My eyes opened to find her boarding the bus. After a long second, they switched back to the Falls.  
  
Yet nothing I should care to leave behind.  
With all I have to hold with, hand and mind  
And heart, if need be, I will do my best.  
To keep their building balanced at my breast.  
  
Here I was, sandwiched between two fears, struggling between two desires. In survival mode, my mind became unusually sharp and lucid.  
  
I had to drop the armful in the road  
And try to stack them in a better load.  
  
_Yes, that's right. I need to restack. And once I did, I may be able to carry more. I may be able to handle it all. No, I will definitely be able to carry more, because I have you by my side. When it's my hope, our hope, then it's a dream. And that dream lives on as long as we sustain it._  
  
My body felt lighter than ever. I looked up, my chest broadened, drawing a sharp breath of that crisp air. The sight of the moon sent my heart drumming. Had it been there all along? That feeling returned to me. Exonerated and released of all burdens. My legs were in motion again, cutting my body across the crowd. "Zhenya!" I shouted her name with all my might. Above that roar of the Falls, all eyes were on me as I ran after the bus. "Zhenya!".  
  
_Let me hope. Let us hope._  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Readers,
> 
> I know that the turn of events were unexpected for many of you (but hopefully with hindsight you can forgive us for holding your hearts hostages for a few days!)  
> This was ingenious of Mochiflowers. As stated from the beginning, all that twist and turn, all those tugs at the heart strings were 100% due to her. She revealed this plot to me about a week ago, after I wrote the first three or so chapters. I was immediately taken aback by how deep and tightly woven it was. It has been my absolute honor to be in this collab with her. 
> 
> This story is not the run-of-the-mill romance, the Disney or Hollywood pleasing "say-I-love-you-is-the-end", the smooth-sailing, happily ever after kind of plot. Our characters, Yuzu and Zhenya, fell in love, made mistakes, worked through obstacles, and grew stronger in the process. This definitely commenced from page 1, way before I picked up my pen (or keyboard). It underlies the captivating, relatable metaplot of Mochiflowers' work (not to mention the imageries, metaphors and multiple themes she has put in). It was what drove me to start writing from Yuzu's viewpoint, because I wanted to experience all of that, again, in person. All that joy, pain, fear, all those tears, and most importantly, the "I won't give up" mentality, the grit that's too often missing from today's simplified narratives. Chapters 10 and 11 of this story (and the corresponding chapters in Your Name) literally caused me physical pain. But the ending was absolutely worth it, and now I feel more liberated than ever. 
> 
> In portraying these characters, both Mochiflowers and I drew inspirations from various real-life sources, including personal stories of us and those dear to us. For me, both reading and writing this story has been an incredibly rewarding (though sometimes painful) journey. I grew in the process, and this helped me to take recent major decisions on my real-life relationships. Most importantly, I rediscovered the joy the reading and writing.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the work, or at least, was entertained. Many thanks for your support.  
> Special thanks to @DarknessOnIce for inspiring the dual POV idea in me.  
> Thanks to Yuzuru Hanyu and Evgenia Medvedeva for being the real-life, inspiring champions despite all those setbacks. And finally, a very special bow to @mochiflowers, who opened up this world for me, who grew into a special friend and confidante, and whose correspondence has done more for me than I could ever hoped for in the last two weeks.
> 
> DRL


End file.
